


This Love

by sapphire2309



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A triptych, exploring three different relationships at three different times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Came Back To Me

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana can't help but feel like she needs to close a chapter and move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panel One of the [This Love triptych](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/37446.html#thislove). An expansion of part of [this commentfic](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/39228.html?thread=343356#t343356), written for [percygranger](http://percygranger.livejournal.com/).For the 'moving' square on my hc_bingo card. Title from Taylor Swift's This Love.

  
Deciding to move was difficult.

Diana's lived in her little flat ever since she finally settled in New York. It was her first constant, the first thing in her life that stayed still and didn't get left behind because it wasn't portable.

She has a lot of memories there. At first it was just her, but then Theo left his mark too, damaging a few things that meant she had to fix things up before she left, and then realized that she'd left permanent marks of her own that needed to be erased. Marks on the walls, scrapes in the kitchen, a splash of wine on the ceiling (don't ask).

But, despite the fact that there is a school that's close enough to her place, she can't help but feel like she needs to close a chapter and move on. What chapter, she can't even begin to guess. But she wants to move, no, needs to, and maybe she empathizes with Neal just a little (she won't admit it), because she can't rest till she finds a new house and signs papers that give it to her.

Even so, this is going to be a hard place to leave behind.

-:-

  
She's shoving furniture around and wondering why she ever wanted to move (and how the _hell_ Mozzie managed to snake his way into the decision-making) when there's a knock at the door, which happens to be standing wide open.

It's Christie.

"Hey," Diana says softly, not willing to believe it.

Christie makes her awkward way around boxes and hanging bubble wrap. They look at each other for a few minutes, testing the air.

Finally, she goes with, "I called Jones, he told me you moved. I dropped by the old house, but it's mostly ghost impressions on the walls."

"Yeah," Diana says. "It's a little scary. I keep expecting to see all my things around the place. And they're here instead."

Christie nods, looks around, bites words back.

"Hey," Diana says again, but it's not a greeting, more of a call, a sound of sympathy.

Christie shakes her head. "Nothing, it's... nothing."

They're interrupted by a sharp cry from the bedroom. Diana turns away, distracted. Christie looks more curious than anything.

"That'll be Theo..." Diana mutters, half-inaudible, then runs from the room.

She walks out with Theo in her arms, who's already done crying, and looks guiltily at Christie, who, for her part, is wearing a reasonably cheerful expression.

"You're not angry?"

Christie shakes her head. "Marriage and children are two very different things."

Diana cracks a smile.

-:-

  
Once Theo's asleep again, they sit on empty, surprisingly sturdy boxes, just talking for the longest time.

"You've moved on," Christie observes, not dispassionate, but not accusing either.

"Yeah."

Then they're quiet for a while, looking not quite at each other, till Christie leans over and touches Diana's lips with her own.

It's the briefest of kisses, barely there, but even so, they feel the love coming back, slowly, like luminous drips from a ball of solid light.

They don't rush it.

-:-

  
Christie doesn't quite know what she was thinking when she decided to get in touch with Diana again. She could have called before, but she and Diana rarely, if ever, discussed important things over the phone (except towards the end, they fought passive-aggressively over the phone, that was important).

She just wanted to talk.

Towards the end of their relationship, words had stopped meaning anything. _I'm okay, I miss you, I love you,_ they said all the everyday platitudes, she analyzed them to death, did she mean it when she said come home soon? Did Diana mean it when she said we're all right? Words were messy, unpredictable, floating somewhere in space between them, in little impermeable bubbles, their meaning locked away forever.

Words had been their downfall.

And, for some strange reason, she'd wanted to talk. No, not talk. See her. Maybe, where words had failed them, simple, raw emotions would do.

They did, maybe, because now they're talking again, and their words are hitting the mark, drawing smiles and laughs and a touch of love and lots of kisses. Words are making sense again. They aren't writhing in midair, turning themselves into something they weren't, just to tell them both, _This isn't working_. _Hi_ is as soft and welcoming as it should be, _home_ isn't that place where they come together to fight like gladiators, _no_ is a full stop, not a challenge.

Words are coming back to their meanings.

Maybe they're coming back together too.


	2. Let It Go Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel feels Neal drift away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panel Two of the [This Love triptych](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/37446.html#thislove). Something of a timestamp to [the metal wraps itself around your bones](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/39427.html). This can be read as a stand alone. For the 'learning to be loved' square on my hc_bingo card. Title from Taylor Swift's This Love.

Rachel feels Neal drift away.

He's becoming happier, and that's a good thing, but it doesn't feel like it. Because when he's not happy, he understands her. He can look into her eyes and know how it feels to be her - it never stops hurting, but she's become damn good at spreading it around.

Maybe she made him carry that burden.

-:-

One time, they come together, and she thinks it's going to be the usual, wonders how far she'll push him tonight, when he touches her face and whispers, "Let me try something."

She lets him. It feels like fair trade.

Right up until he holds her like she's precious (she isn't, she's killed people, and he knows that, knows that she can still kill in a heartbeat) and kisses her gently. Kisses her like she's Rebecca Lowe.

He can't be pretending it's Rebecca. She kept her hair black, dyed it more permanently, she doesn't resemble her in the least.

He's holding Rachel, and kissing her like she matters.

It feels criminal.

She pushes him away, purposely aiming for a bruise she left. With one swipe of her leg, his are swept out from under him, he's flat in bed, held down by her hands, faster than he can blink, and she wants to hurt him for making her feel like that, but all she can do is look into his eyes, listen to his frantic heartbeat, and curl up into his side, breathing in a way that mimics crying a little too closely for her liking.

He doesn't hurt her like she would've hurt him. He pulls her closer, makes her feel warm, and it's so much worse but feels so much better.

He's going to break her.

-:-

She's getting used to this gentility. Even though she doesn't understand it.

She gave herself permission to let go of him after that first kiss, was ready to leave him behind, just had to grab a bag and leave. But then she remembered how it feels to hold and be held so tenderly, it feels like a gift, and she's utterly confused at it. She doesn't leave new bruises behind as oftena s she used to. Usually, she just plays with the ones that are already there, toying with them, soothing them, walking a much gentler line of pain and pleasure than she's familiar with.

She still feels most like herself when she's leaving bruises, though. And that probably isn't going to change.

-:-

Maybe she doesn't know herself as well as she thought.

Because she does get used to this new pattern. Bruise and soothe, hurt and comfort. She doesn't feel so distant from who she used to be that she's lost touch, but she's entering this strange new territory right along with Neal, this content space, this place where they can be them and no one has to change too much.

And she feels strangely accountable for the bruises now. Like she did something that hurt him, and the next step is to fix that thing.

She's never stuck around long enough to witness the fallout, much less fix it. But now that she has, she doesn't want to leave.

And then she has to.

-:-

Neal comes back to himself. She watched it happen, she helped it happen.

And now she doesn't fit anymore.

He doesn't say a word, but she isn't blind, she sees it. Sees how they don't quite match so well anymore, he's ready to wear the rose coloured glasses full-time again, she's only just getting used to the occasional peek.

She doesn't blame him, not in the least. This is who he is, who he's always been, who she fell for as Rebecca. But Neal Caffrey does not go with Rachel Turner.

She's been counting down the days ever since he let her in again, didn't think she'd get this many, didn't ever dream it.

She had it, and now she's lost it. But she wants it back.

She's not going to get it back. She's a little relieved, she really does want Neal to be okay, but it hurts at the same time. She wants to let him go, but she's selfish too, always has been, so it's difficult.

Maybe, maybe she can hold onto this new person at least. This person who she likes a little better than the one she used to be, this person who cares even a little about the fallout, this gentler, softer person.

-:-

She doesn't.

Being soft isn't conducive to staying alive. And she prefers alive and ruthless to dead and soft.


	3. Alive, Back From The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June wants to remember more than she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panel Three of the [This Love triptych](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/37446.html#thislove). An expansion of part of [this commentfic](http://sapphire2309.livejournal.com/39228.html?thread=343356#t343356), written for [percygranger](http://percygranger.livejournal.com/). For the 'forced to face fear' square on my hc_bingo card. Title from Taylor Swift's This Love.

That love they had, it was precious. So precious.

They treasured it, when Byron was alive. Now, with just one person to open it up and look inside and admire the good and the ugly, the happy and the bad times, it feels incomplete. Memories aren't enough. Not when there's no chance to make more.

It was strong and powerful and all consuming, when there were two. But there aren't. Now it's just her, clinging to the last shreds of it, convincing herself it's been secreted away into corners of this house, she just isn't looking hard enough.

It's still there, she knows it is, hidden between piles of other memories, she just has to look harder, search a little more, she'll find it, it's there somewhere.

She wants to remember more than she does, wants those elusive, all important details that just escape her memory. She remembers what they looked like when they went dancing, she doesn't remember how it felt. But sometimes, she consciously forgets that there are people that she needs to meet, and she closes her eyes and plays what she remembers over and over again and maybe she's making up details, she's probably making up details, but right at her fingertips, so close that she thinks she remembers how warm they were.

-:-

  
She only feels the barest touch of it now, that love of theirs that used to permeate through this beautiful house he built her. Earlier, there were smells and sounds and sights that kept it alive. Now, there are only memories.

But then, sometimes, when she walks past the piano, she thinks she feels an arm around her, hears a voice whispering in his ear, and for one moment, for one precious moment, Byron is there, he's with her, and she's transported back in time.

She holds on to those moments, for as long as she can.

They fade too easily.

-:-

  
Neal's been around a lot more lately.

Usually, they spend a couple of evenings every week drinking wine and trading a few words, out on the terrace. Now, he sits with her for dinner in the dining room she knows he doesn't like, invites her up more often, just spends more time with her.

He sees when she's lost in memories. He waits there for her till she's done, leaning back in a chair with a book in his lap that he's very good at pretending to read.

-:-

  
Somehow, she feels close, so close, to the Byron in her memories. Even though Byron's just a sceptre formed of memories, just a beautiful, beautiful idea that she is terribly fond of, just the man she loved her whole life who's dead now, and for some reason, she wants him close to her now.

So he stays, nestled by her heart. An ache in her chest, it hurts to remember him so often.

She never thought she'd want it, but she thinks she'd be okay if she let him go now. She holds him closer. She isn't ready to let him go. She's not sure why she's remembering him with such a passion now, but now that he's here, she wants him to stay.

She knows she's okay, she knows she's moved on, but she's suddenly afraid of being alone when Neal's not around, and he's the only person left to hold on to.

-:-

  
Neal's stopped being a passive observer.

He talks to her just when she wants to drift off, he occupies her attention as if she's a mark and it's his job to keep her here, he becomes the thorn in her side, the thorn in her side that keeps her from where she wants to be.

He's never there all day, though.

-:-

  
She tries it. Being alone. Being one person, for an entire day, even when Neal isn't there, instead of pretending Byron's with her. She knows he's there at the back of her mind but she doesn't let him overtake her.

She thought it'd make her smile brittle and her temper sharp and she thought it'd hurt but it doesn't, she's okay. She thought she'd feel lonely, but it's just as easy to be left alone with her own thoughts as it is to spend her time remembering him.

She keeps forgetting that Neal's lost someone too. That he hasn't had the benefit of time and distance but he knows how easy it is to disappear into memories, she helped him out of them the same way he's helping her now.

She's grateful. But, as usual, they don't say a word.


End file.
